


It's A Dark Philosophy

by YouLookGoodInLeather



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, Bad Poetry, F/M, Gen, Multi, Past Rape/Non-con, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-07 18:53:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12238698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLookGoodInLeather/pseuds/YouLookGoodInLeather
Summary: Short poems.1. Az2. Nesta3. Cass4. Lucien





	1. Azriel

**Author's Note:**

> Wine made me think this was a good idea, okay?

each notch upon my belt

is trick -

each smile tucked through my ears

fallacy

though i feel it burn my gums

false -

 

He plyed out all my teeth

just one day ago.

night since then

night since the beginning

night since the end

night since night showed me the sun

as if such a thing could be kindness

 

i regret resentment

ashes precipitating on my tongue. 

they are the flora taking root

amongst the ruins

so i bury the eruption

volcano silenced

yet still seeping

 

quiet

behind locked doors

as all forgotten villains should be

 

I’ll rip their throat out

to protect his day. 

I’ll erupt,

to warm their skin

under guise of warm weather snow

and stars disintegrating in the sky

so that they shouldn’t know

a night

ruled by the sun. 


	2. Nesta

He consumed my skin

like lightning swallows a tree

a storm brewed in a goblet

that I poured 

weather in

 

he told me silence

was the home of desecrated bones

like mine

and dropped me at the cemetery

to breach his new commission

and let me bury myself - careless

always other bodies careless

 

questions led to laughter

and kisses on foreign land

foreign woods

perhaps destined for coffins like mine

or greater purpose

a chair

perhaps

for him to sit upon

 

care still holds me

no matter how many silences

i follow by his teachings

i’d burn the diaries by his askings

but i wrote them in the text

of ventricles and atriums

preserved

however cold they grow.

 

so why must fire face me

and threaten to melt

the sacred texts of my religion

why? - must I again

be laid out to dinner

and set to their consumption?

 

how long

until the latch falls down

and soil buries me 

as he wanted?

how many fires

till the cremation

they all cast 

their matches unto?


	3. Cassian

she is the hot blood way

i find those sacred chills -

 

with knives of her bleak heritage

she catches my tongue

and cuts,

rendering bloody

my roiling speech

 

my kamikaze words

seeking true dismemberment

head to toe severing

so that she might know peace

and i

war like that

which stains my boyhood red

 

i thrive

in that lightning shelter

\- strike me down

the only way i get (back) up -

in her i find life again

in her i find redemption

though there’s no compassion here

save in the mirror darkly

face to face

 

strike me again

i write to her through bodies

strike me deeper

i transmute through paper lashes

 

may she find release

in my destruction

but does she know

how i crave it too?

  
  



	4. Lucien

he is the swallowing of graces

and worlds left on nigh,

i feel his absence in the morning

even as the sun rises high.

he is the shiver in my tailbone

as my back caves in

to all those nights wasted without him

now my patience wearing thin.

 

i felt him dying in the bathroom - 

bleeding out from wounds inside.

i couldn’t bear to see him feeling

because he was where I’d hide -

stop this, I begged of him

as his world crumbled around his ears

i slapped him round the cheekbones

gave him only insults and bitter sneers

 

it didn’t heal him like it should do

as i watched his body turn to rot

he wasn’t the knight made into statue

a fact that i’d forgot -

i watched him seeping across the tiling

turning all a crimson hue

but of course this all was coming

we’d all get what we were due

 

i brought about their slaughter

and the dying of angelic girls

he’d spoken false right to our faces

delivering lies like before swine pearls

so I laid right there beside him

on that marbled bathroom floor

and gave myself to broken autumn,

that he might know dawn’s light once more.


End file.
